Sweet and Tender Beasts
by claudia flies
Summary: What if it had all gone differently? An AU look at Van Helsing where Anna makes different choices, Van Helsing is fighting a losing battle and Dracula’s plans are more sinister in nature. AnnaxGabriel


Title: Sweet and Tender Beasts

Author: Claudia flies

Rating: hard R / NC-17 / Mature Content

Spoilers: 'Van Helsing' the movie

Summary: What if it had all gone differently? This is Anna's story. Alternative Universe; veers off after Van Helsing drugs Anna, but still follows most of the plotlines of the film.

Category: AU, POV, Romance

Warnings: Violence, sex and religious themes. This is rated hard R for a reason, if that is not your cup of tea then do not read it.

Author's Notes: Firstly thank you to my greatly abused beta Ruby, who has selflessly tolerated my late night phone calls and rants, sat over tea for hours going over the details of this story and been a very supportive friend over great distances and on msn on very inconvenient hours. Somehow she seems to understand me better that I understand myself.

Secondly I have tried to keep the historical details in this story as accurate as possible. However I do not live in any of the countries mentioned in this story so my knowledge of their history and culture is limited. The geographical locations used in this story are actual places that did exist during the 1800's, but whether they had harbour activity or provided certain services is not necessarily historically accurate.

Archiving: Ask first.

Disclaimer: 'Van Helsing' and all its related articles are the property of Universal Studios and Stephen Sommers. I am not making any money off this.

Feedback: Yes, please.

Dedication: To my best of friends: Ruby, Gamze and Queen, who have been tirelessly patient and supportive. There is no way this could have been possible without you.

Sweet and Tender Beasts 

She woke up suddenly, as if someone had yelled in her ear. She felt short of breath and a strange taste clogged the back of her throat; a sudden rage boiled in her; Van Helsing. She rose from her bed swiftly, only having to resort into clutching the door frame, the after effect of the poison and the painful way her corset constricted her body made it hard to breathe. She pushed the discomfort aside and willed herself to move. She stalked through the corridors angrily spitting his name, aware of how ridiculous she looked, but her pride would not let her leave this unpunished. She marched into the drawing room, insults on her lips, only to find it empty.

She sensed the wrongness in the room immediately; the air felt off, something she had learned to be wary of. Slight sounds of movement which, under different circumstances, could almost be figments of her imagination, reverberated in the walls. Slowly she lifted a pistol from one of the weapons desks. The metal was cool in her hand, a comfort of sorts.

The form was just a glimpse in the corner of her eye, as she moved it was already gone. The familiar shapes of furniture became hindrances, hiding places. This was not the first time for one of Dracula's minions to have visited the castle. She shivered; there had always been someone to watch her back. She was not ready for a lonely death. An involuntary scream escaped her as the shape was suddenly in front of her, the strange smell in her nostrils.

Velkan's clothing were torn and wet, his face was distraught even beneath the happiness. She could do nothing except embrace him even if everything about him felt strange, felt wrong. The clammy fear that had gripped her chest since his fall was finally gone. There were so few moments in her life when she was allowed to lower her guard, to be safe, she was never willing to let them go.

"Oh, Anna….. You…."

She had felt stretched all week, her body weary and tense. He was now the only familiar link she had and she welcomed him, ignoring the warning in her mind. Suddenly his face transformed into a horrified mask.

"Dracula is planning….."

He pulled his wet form away from her embrace, cowering against the wall. A horrible convulsion shook of his body forcing him to the floor.

"Don't….Castle Frankenstein…. You can't…."

The rest of his words were drowned by the animalistic scream issuing from his throat. She could do nothing but watch as his body changed, face lengthening, body contouring to an impossible form. The pistol was still clutched in her hand, now warm with the heat of her skin. Tears, uninvited, were streaming from her eyes; a sob she would not let out was shaking her breast.

"Velkan….. No….please….."

Even with her whole body shaking, her arm was steady as she rose to aim. The pistol was an independent part of her, separate from the screaming, crying woman attempting to break free.

"I love you."

The smell of powder and blood filled the room. The half transformed beast's head had fractured, blood and bone staining the wall. She wanted to die, wanted to drown. A heavy pressure on her chest made it difficult to breathe. She felt Van Helsing run up to her side, pulling her away. The rage returned with new vigour. She pulled out of his grasp and pointed her pistol between the man's eyes. She could feel him readying himself for a struggle.

"I will kill you."

There was icy determination in her voice, and he backed away. Her eyes were hostile and raw, and he knew that if he would make the wrong move she would pull the trigger. Of all the monsters he had faced this was the most difficult one. He was not out here to kill her, and the rage in her eyes confirmed that if they were to fight, someone would die, and for the first time he was not sure if he would come out victorious.

"I have no need for saviours. I have only one purpose here. I will kill him even if I have to ride to the pits of hell to do it. If you are here to help me, then do it."

"I apologise, but you cannot face him alone."

"Yes I can. I have faced him alone many times. If you are not prepared to stand by my side then leave."

He did not leave. Slowly, still eyeing him suspiciously, she lowered the gun and turned away. She walked to the other side of the room and collapsed on the floor. His first instinct was to go to her, but the gun still lay beside her. Laboriously she undid the straps of her bodice letting it fall to the stony floor. She screamed, with such ferocity that it made him flinch. The sound issuing from her throat did not sound human; she banged her fits on the floor screaming her sorrow out.

Gently he walked to her and kneeled down.

"I am sorry."

She did not know which incident he meant, maybe both, but took the offered handkerchief anyway. A thick curtain of black hair concealed her expression as she wiped her face. As she rose from the ground her face had become unreadable.

"Dracula is planning something in Castle Frankenstein."

"You cannot…"

Her hands were still cradling the pistol, eyes hooded and dark.

"Yes I can, and you will help me."

* * *

The trek to Castle Frankenstein was a silent one; Anna's demeanour was still cold, firmly forcing him to keep his distance. Van Helsing realised this was not something he could push aside. He needed her on his side; she knew the lands, and her experience in dealing with vampires was valuable. He had never encountered a worthy ally in any of his myriad assignments; or, he though wryly, one that _he_ would have thought worthy. Anna had never allowed him even the thought of questioning her involvement. 

After the unfortunate death of Dr. Frankenstein over a year ago, only a few villagers had dared to approach the castle. Anna had watched, discontented, from her window as the angry villagers had stormed the citadel. She had been aware of the accusation of grave robbery and of the wild rumours of the Doctor's experiments. She would have preferred an open trial, taking him in broad daylight, not this skulking with torches and pitchforks; the world would think them savages. _Choose your battles, sister dear_. Velkan had been the voice of reason, imploring her to accept the rash judgements of the mob. Would he have survived, if she had implored harsher; commanded justice for the vile doctor? It was Velkan's words spoken many months ago that drove her into the castle as much as his death mere hours ago. She had told Van Helsing that Transylvanians always look at the brighter side of death, they were forced to. She had accepted death as a companion many years ago, always flirting with its presence, courting it, just to be allowed to see her family again. The loneliness had festered in all of their souls even when her family had still been with her. Now death seemed a good companion; it brought hope of seeing her beloved ones again; in times of peace.

She began to regret their decision to ignore law the moment she walked into the castle. It had the smell. The smell of small rotten animals, fear, stale old sheets; Dracula had been here. She knew it, before they found the slimy pouches, before Van Helsing unveiled the deformed face of a baby vampire. They could both feel the light currents moving through the slimy bags, trembling in their fingers. It was a slight movement, a shifting shadow in the cavernous doorways surrounding the rundown hall.

With the shadows dancing in the corners, she began to feel the slight probing on the edges of her senses, someone looking a way in through the defences of propriety. She knew then that he had her like a puppet on a string. She willed herself to fight, just enough to get closer, to see him. Maybe she would see the flaw that all of her ancestors had missed. She crept on between the pouches as the shadows grew bolder, now finely defined against the ceiling. Van Helsing ran to chase the being that had suddenly appeared as if conjured up out of nothingness, as the wood fixtures began to crumble under an unnatural pressure, forcing her to back away and seek cover near the stone walls still holding strong. The open shaft almost pulled her in, her body slamming hard against the wooden interior, winding her. The box began to move up.

* * *

Dracula played with him. Dangling crumpets from his past in his fingers, discussing them as common knowledge, continuously smiling, holding all the cards. His pace was slow, a man taking his Sunday stroll, but still forcing Van Helsing to back away. A glint had appeared into his eye during the exchange, his lips forming into a sneer. 

"She is a fall flower, grown too late, bloom frozen, _unspoiled_."

There was no questioning of whom he spoke, no questioning the lusting tone. Van Helsing felt cold, even if his hand still burned from the fire of the cross. Dracula had brought him here to gloat, to flaunt his masterpiece. Not Velkan, a mere body already cold, but Anna lured here to fill his need. A perfect plan; her own brother used to lure her in.

"I will open her, and she will love me for it."

They were now moving into the darkness, both men cloaked in black, now hardly seeing each other.

"I will let her see God."

And he was gone. The chill intensified.

* * *

The ride up in the little cart made the back of her stomach hurt, she almost rolled out of the shamble as it came to a sudden stop. Castle Frankenstein had been abandoned long before its latest occupant had arrived with carriages and in a hurry to find a suitable "housing". It was draughty, more than castles usually and it had a strange way of moaning in the night time. The main hall, serving as a laboratory, was by no means as deserted as it should have been. Small creatures squabbled among themselves arranging tubes and metal contraptions. Silently she crept by the walls, holding herself in the shadows. The forced stillness came so suddenly she would have screamed if it would have been possible. It was like ice was seeping into her muscles, hindering all movement and breath. The little vile servants edged closer, they sensed the change in her demeanour, sensed the panicked beating of her heart. She tried to close her eyes. Hail Mary, full of grace, the lord is with you… 

"Anna… Oh Anna, what a beauty you have turned into."

The hairs at the back of her neck rose, the chill in her bones intensified. He moved to stand in front of her, all suave and smooth motion, disguising the demonic creature living inside the flesh of human. His cold hand came to stroke her face.

"You brother was such a good blood hound, was he not?"

He smiled, hands moving to caress her hair.

"Did he not bring me the greatest price?"

The servants were tittering madly beside him, their gawky little mouths snapping in glee. She squeezed her eyes close. Blessed are you among women and blessed is the fruit of your womb…

"You pray, do you not? To that pathetic God of yours, beg for mercy, for forgiveness. Pray to the Virgin to soothe your soul; your longing. Oh do not be so coy Princess; I know what festers in your lusting heart."

He took Aleera's words; making them his with such an ease one could not deny the intimate connection. She wanted him to die.

"You know nothing. Of God; or of me"

Her voice shook with rage, spitting to his face.

"We are not so different, Him and I."

His cold hands slid down her neck, chilling her pulse, down her front pushing her stomach through the hard bodice.

"Through the innocence of Mary His son received a divine mortal life. Through the innocence of you my children will receive a life eternal."

Slowly he turned her, like a circus director revealing his greatest performance yet, to a spiked table in the far side of the round room. The servants were gathered round it, some even caressing the thick leather straps nailed to the wood. Violently they heaved a burned carcass from the slab; it was to be her place now.

"You will shed your hair, drain your blood, and give me your life. And after; you will be mine."

Watching the instruments of her end being prepared, she felt her noble ideals beginning to dissipate. She had lived with death, with the knowledge of its unavoidability, of its glory, but now she wanted to run, to plead; to grovel for her life, just one moment more of breath in her lungs. Dracula's fingers were running on her spine like nervous mice, he felt every though she had. His enjoyment came not from shaming her, but from the knowledge that he could.

"But do not worry, young Princess, you will see your vile God soon enough."

Van Helsing was standing in the darkness of the small service entrance at the base of the laboratory floor, wrapping himself in his coat, hiding in the shadows. Dracula was too jubilant to notice his presence, his every movement, every word radiated victory, satisfaction. Even through the icy mask he could see Anna's terror, her every attempt to break free.

Suddenly Dracula's fingers stilled on Anna's hip, his head cocked as if to listen. The two brides flew in, hissing, spitting towards them. Van Helsing could see Anna stiffen even further at the sight of the vampires. They circled the pair, darting forward and then back again like a pair of vultures.

"My loves, I have finally found the vessel for our children, for our life."

His voice was honeyed, victorious, hands continuing their petting.

"I will not share your bed with Her!"

Aleera's words were vicious, hissed to Anna, even if they were addressed to Dracula.

"No. No, my dears."

He was spreading his arms, to embrace his current loved ones. Van Helsing could see the exact moment he lost hold of Anna. Her body, coiled with tension, sprang into motion. She crashed through a cavernous window into the parapet outside. He ran after her through the shattered glass, Dracula's screams in his ears. He could feel the coils of Dracula's will struggling for a hold on his mind, on Anna's, but his concentration was too thin: too involved with his wailing brides.

She was facing the stony wall, violently pulling an iron cable attached to the stonework. He rushed to her and circled her palms within his and gave the cable a firm yank, springing it loose. She grabbed on to his coat with her left hand, the right instinctively wrapping around the hard metal twine. They jumped. Gravity and the harsh winds pillowing around the tower tore their bodies, the only reason, Anna later though, they stayed on was Van Helsing's gloved strong fingers holding on to the cable, and holding on to her.

"Aleera! Who is she?"

His words barely carried over the howling wind.

"My uncle's wife."

The hard sand of the courtyard hit her so suddenly that her knees locked and made painful tremors run through her legs. He still held her up.

"She betrayed us. Maybe not by choice…"

She drew a breath.

"Many of us have died for this. She did not even accomplish that."

Her voice turned very cold as she turned to their horses, still tied to the post near the stables, frantic and afraid. He was as glad to leave Castle Frankenstein behind as Anna was. He could feel the late afternoon rays of the sun shield their ride back to the village, giving them the needed cover to return to the Valerious castle.

* * *

The chapel of the castle lay underground. There had once been a church up the hill, but it had been destroyed hundreds of years ago. Her ancestors had considered that a holy place, their final refuge, was to be safe. So they had carved a church of stone into the foundations of the mountain that rose behind the castle. She clutched her rosary, worn and smooth with years of use. 

"Even if I walk in the valley of the shadow of death I shall fear no evil…."

But she did. Fear had become much a part of her day as breathing and eating. They had been raised with the taste of it. Hidden away in the many secret rooms of the castle until old enough to fight, old enough to die. Her father had wished for her to marry, she knew this. But very few men of her rank were willing to travel here, behind God's back, to find a wife whose purpose was to die, die fighting evil. Pictures of her had been sent around Europe, in hope of a husband and with that an heir to their endless quest, but none had come. Secretly in her heart she had been glad; and ashamed for it.

Once when she was very young she had silently one night slid into the chapel to witness her young uncle's wedding. The old priest's words had reverberated around the stone. He had spoken of purity and loyalty. Of the holy sacraments. The young bride was the image of the splendour of the saints in her white gown, still innocent of what she was marrying into. Three moths later he was found dead in the mountains. The bride was not found at all and when the family discovered her whereabouts it was already too late, she was already heavy with Dracula's spawns. She had not understood then. Later on her mother, in silent tone, had explained why she was not allowed out. Why she, unlike the other girls of the village, was not allowed to the smithy where the young apprentice's broke steel or to the stables where the smell of horse and hay ruled.

"You cannot pass this quest on idly."

There had been such deep sorrow in her mother's voice. For her she had grown to be a fierce fighter, equal to her brother and father. She had grown chaste like the hundreds of saints that decorated the walls of her home. But now her body had become the enemy, her chastity the dagger. With Dracula's sinister words everything she had lived by vanished. Now her mother's voice urged her to the smithy, to play with the other girls, but she could not, would not. The enemy she had so long fought was now inside her, in her flesh. She knew that Van Helsing would not let her get in the way. He would eliminate the threat, with her consent or not.

She pulled a worn out book from underneath the leg rest. It was Velkan's psalm book. Dear Velkan, who would will his sister to carry on fighting. She was not sure if she had the strength left anymore. She bowed her back, slowly reciting holy words into the silence of the stone.

* * *

It is like this he found her. Kneeling in front of an altar of stone buried deep with in the earth. During their hasty return from Castle Frankenstein she had been silent, face ghostly pale. Carl had not noticed her leaving in his enthusiasm for Dracula's attempts to create life out of nothingness. He had watched her distraught gaze wander around the valley, then later around the paintings, and her father's map. He knew what must be done, but found himself skittish towards the task. He did not know how to approach her; all the monsters he had killed seemed miniscule in comparison to her hunched form. Slowly he walked in. If she noticed his presence she gave no sign. She did not turn when he called her name. Slowly he kneeled next to her in the cold altar. 

"My mother used to read this when I could not sleep."

Her voice was clear and serious.

"Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; Wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow…"

"…Let me hear joy and gladness; Let the bones that you have crushed rejoice."

He finished. Her eyes were hooded in the darkened room when they rose to meet his. She was on her guard, ready for a fight. The thought alone made him want to flinch.

"I cannot take anything that you are not willing to give."

"But would you if I am to refuse?"

There was a steely edge to her voice. He would have to send her away, and she would not leave. She was honour bound to this land and to her faith. How could he ask her to forsake either one? She had turned again to face the altar painting. He felt a huge welt of tenderness swell inside him towards this noble, fierce creature, who had taken him so silently, unawares. How could he ever ask that?

She spoke towards the altar painting; her voice did not waver.

"How can I do anything but consent?"

* * *

Carl was hiding behind a large stack of old tomes, dragged from the ancient Valerious library, when he walked in. He had never understood Carl's desire for the clergy. He was a scholar and a scientist, in these times that was a merit in itself. 

"The doors and windows must all be barricaded."

"She consented, did she?"

His glare was icy, and Carl swiftly ducked behind another stack of books.

"Barricaded, yes, will do."

She had risen from the altar with such a hurry, which left him reeling. Her brusque manner and tone had almost managed to hide the fear lurking in the corners of her body. He knew the castle must be made as secure as possible. Dracula did not take failures lightly and would be soon attempting to take her again. Dracula was not stupid; he knew that Van Helsing, even though his mission was a holy one, would not hesitate to take Anna's honour in his effort to defeat the Count. Until then they would be vulnerable. They would have to be well prepared; most of the defences would be in Carl's hands. He needed time, no, he wanted time; Anna needed time.

The huge windows of the study were already equipped with heavy iron shutters. The castle had been built and re-built to last aerial attacks over the centuries. Thick iron rods were driven into the stone work at every opening and most of the courtyard was surrounded with an iron grating.

He heard the screeches of Dracula's brides as they entered the castle; they reverberated in every goblet and window. He was on his feet immediately running towards the winding staircases that lead up to the towers. Carl dove to the desk to save what documents he could. The screeching was moving down the staircase, and now it was mingled with Anna's shouts and curses. She stormed out of the small doorway, her bare feet slapping loudly against the stone works of the floor. She was carrying a long sword, already tainted with vampire blood.

The creatures were not far behind. They instantly flew to the ceiling, yelling foul things. Anna rushed to the weapons chest, and he rushed to her. One of the creatures descended swiftly, its claws grabbing her hair, attempting to pull her into the air. They were already halfway up the room, and Anna's screams of rage began to change into panic, when he finally found the silver stakes strapped onto the woodwork of the chest. A fast throw with his steady hand and the stake met its target. The beast's claws instinctively released their captive. She stumbled to the floor, but immediately rose, expecting another attack. The force of the blow had sent the vampire flying against one of the seven huge windows of the hall. The weight of the beast managed to break the class and the shutters, before it disintegrated into the cold air. The other beast flew after its sister, wailing horribly.

Snow was blowing in through the broken window. If the remaining bride would capture Anna, it would be all over. Dracula would delay no more with idle chatter. He dashed to the sword cabinet where she was fighting with the centuries-old lock.

"You need to get away!"

"There is nowhere for me to go!"

Her voice was frantic over the howling wind that had increased in strength, as if hailing for Dracula himself. There was no time. Fast she pulled him to the corner of the room, where an old and smelly tapestry covered a wooden door that lead into the family chapel. The door was thick oak and had a heavy bolt on the other side. It would hold.

Their breathing was harsh in the darkness. Torches lit in the chapel gave eerie light to the hallway. The frustrated howls of the remaining bride made the stonework vibrate.

"Are you hurt?"

Slowly she shook her head, her fingers buried in her thick hair massaging the skin where it had been pulled.

"Anna, we don't have any time… If they attack again…"

"I know"

She took a hold of his hands and guided them to the fastenings of her trousers on the side of her hip. Resting his hands against the lacings, feeling her hot skin through the fabric, he bent down to kiss her.

"Please don't…"

Her voice was barely more than a breath against him, a nameless request, a fear; he did not know how to answer. Instead he concentrated on the intertwining strings binding the cloth. Laces undone, she helped him to push the fabric down her legs, kicking it away. His belt, worn with years of use into soft and yielding, came loose easily in her hands. She was not heavy, lifting her was easy, her legs snatched around his middle, and an apprehensive grunt escaped her throat. Her feet were trembling against his legs; her fingers clutched painfully his shoulders as he pushed against her.

"Easy…easy…"

But she could not settle down; her thighs were rigid against his hipbones, knuckles white against his dark coat. He lifted her body higher, her hips resting against his stomach, bearing all of her weight onto him. Slowly she lowered her mouth to meet his. She was still reserved, holding back, hands clutching onto his coat. Slowly she unwound, her lips parting to let him in, her legs twining around his back. Carefully he held her hips and pushed in. She tore her mouth from his drawing a whining breath; his left hand supported her back letting her accommodate him. His other hand pushed between them, slowly circling his thumb between her legs. Her breath caught, and low whine escaped through her parted lips.

Her eyes were huge in the low light, looking straight at him. She parted her legs slightly, trusting him to hold her up, moving onto him, her lips parted to exhale. It sounded loud as the wind in the silence of the passage. She rested her forehead against his, breathing against his lips.

"Move. I shall fall apart if you don't."

He pushed, keeping his hand against her back, protecting her skin against the harsh stone. Slowly they found a mutual rhythm. Her head was thrown back, hair spread against the stone wall; he buried his face against her neck muffling his signs into her body. He felt wetness against the side of his face, tears. She was crying, silently mouth gasping for breath. He stilled, still half buried in her body.

"Am I hurting you?"

She shook her head, lifter her hand from the fold of his coat to caress his cheek.

"No."

She kissed him, lips open and hungry, tears merging into the kiss. He felt the change in her body, she pushed back to meet him, allowed him to set the pace. Her heels pushed tighter against his back, leaving bruises behind.

"Anna…"

His voice broke half through the word. He was shaking, his stomach was cramping with the force of holding back. Her legs, twined around him, pulled him even closer. An angry sob escaped through his lips.

"Don't hold back."

Release felt like a kick in the stomach. He buried his head against her, trying to muffle the deep moan that tore itself from him. She wrapped herself around him, riding the tremors of his body.

Slowly his knees gave away underneath their combined weight, and he settled onto the floor letting his legs rest, but still holding her against his chest. Her breath began to slow down, as the adrenalin ebbed away. She started to shiver, from the exhaustion, from the cold air of the chapel. He grabbed the edge of his coat and engulfed her in the fabric. Later on she would remember the smell and texture of him against her, the smell of sweat, leather, garlic. She was so tired, her body and limbs felt stretched. But somehow, she felt content, content in a way endless hours of prayer or gruelling fights would never result in. She wanted to burrow herself into him; she pushed her face beneath his chin, hiding. For a moment he had stilled the rage in her.

A loud banging on the door made her wake from her daze. Carl's voice, in frantic screams, was calling for them. From the warmth of his coat she started looking for her trousers. They dressed with speed, unable to look one another in the eye. Carl was still yelling, for them, and for God, as Van Helsing wrenched the door open. The friar's hands were overflowing with parchment and books, his face was distraught. He brightened up immediately as they stepped from behind the tapestry.

"Dear God… The beasts just flew in… They broke the windows…. And the howling…. Where did you go?"

Carl's prattle washed over them, he seemingly had forgotten that they had been present in the fight. Before Van Helsing could answer

"We were in the chapel."

Her tone did not give any opening for questions. She turned on her heel and marched into the stairs disappearing onto the lower floors. He watched her go dejectedly.

"What happened?"

His glare was even frostier than before.

* * *

The washroom of the castle was on the lowest floor above ground. The servants, still petrified by the earlier attack, were preparing her bath with trembling hands. She stood in the shadowy corner of the room watching them at work, and refusing to change into her bath robe or divulging her dirty clothing to be washed. The servants left in a hurry, wearier of their mistress' bad temper than the beasts howling outside. 

With care she undid the straps holding her bodice in place, undid the lacings of her trousers she had hurriedly tied only moments before. She could still feel the calloused fingers pushing the fabric down. Oh God, how could she ever give the trousers to the washer woman? She had been the villagers' favourite topic for idle gossip for a long time, but she was reluctant to give them scandals that were true.

Underwater the world was silent and dark. Most of the time she would prefer to stay there, body forever hidden beneath the waves. Some days it took over her, the forbidden desire to leave, not to exist. The true horror of their curse was that they were forever bound to the land, centuries passed and nothing could change, would change. She was fourteen when her mother walked into the sea. She had been sickly since Velkan's birth, and finally that year her father had decided to send her to Prague, to enjoy the final years, to finally see the changing of the seasons. Anna was not allowed to go with her. She had felt her mother's weariness, her mind; where the memory of children long past resided, taken away by their endless quest. Sometimes she envied her mother in the embrace of the sea. She wanted to see the sea, wanted to walk into it. Maybe she would find herself there. Her lungs began to burn and she was forced to surface once more.

She had to be strong now; to be brave and fulfil her family's pledge. She had to face the disapproval of her ancestors and her subjects. She had to kill Dracula. Maybe then she could walk into the sea and find peace. She felt the pull in her stomach; it was not the pull of the sea. Anna feared that she had now anchored herself into the world with stronger ties that their calling ever could.

* * *

He was pacing the length of his room. It must have once been a family member's room, the huge windows and massive wood furnishing told a story of ancient wealth, but it had been ripped bare of all details of its former occupant, impersonal enough to serve as a guest room. He should not have done what he did; no, he should not have enjoyed it. It was an unfortunate turn of events which forced them, no forced her, to make that choice. 

With reproach he recalled the thoughts that had baited him uninvited during their ride from Castle Frankenstein. He had seen her eyes travelling around the village, lingering on the smithy's door. A jealousy, of anyone close to this woman to whom he had no claim, rose in the back of his throat. She is mine, his body had screamed and he had detested himself for it. There was something in the vivacious smile that called out to him. From the start she had made herself his equal, made herself felt. Unlike the hundreds of tarts in street corners or high born ladies feeding off on his adventures had. She carried the same baggage of pain and uncertainty and did not shy away from it. She was ready to die and he feared he would not be able to let her.

He wondered if this longing for her came from his past, those forgotten hours and days that he sometimes caught glimpses of in the corner of his eye, only to feel them disappearing on closer study.

* * *

Next morning rain pelted down in violent sheets, making it impossible to see further than a few yards from the castle windows. Anna watched the rain, the dark clouds moving over the mountain pass in endless groups. Even vampires disliked the rain and flew in it rarely. She should have been glad of the momentary truce brought by the weather, but she felt restless. They had won the battle, yes, but she wanted to finish the war, tonight. It was as if on her call that a young maid escorted a wet, scruffy man into the library. 

He spoke hesitantly, stuttering over words as he told that one of his sons had disappeared. This was no means an unusual event in the village. Vampires, or werewolves, were known to snatch pray even outside of the usual feeding times. The farmer's sons had been playing outside the old mill half a mile outside the village. Anna knew that the site had gathered an ominous reputation after the death Dr. Frankenstein and his alleged creation. The younger of the boys had come home screaming of a monster he had seen through the broken floor boards of the mill while hiding out from Dracula's brides. His brother had not been so lucky. With a now broken voice the farmer told how his youngest had hidden in the ruins, listening to his brother's screams while the brides had flown with him into the distance.

The farmer left, not much consoled by Anna's promise to seek out this new monster, and why should he be she wondered. New terrors sprang up every year and there seemed to be no end to Dracula's rule, no magic weapon to bring about his downfall. She knew, as did the old farmer, that it was too late for the elder boy. After Velkan's death Dracula needed a new hound. The boy would be turned within days. Many times had she damned her ancestors for this curse, for the generations before her who had died fighting a battle already lost. This was not a time for desperation. With a stony face she turned to look for Van Helsing. They had a new monster to find.

* * *

Anna contented herself into watching as Van Helsing fought the monster into chains and into the plush Valerious coach, now worn with age. Carl was standing a little way off, petrified into fearful silence by the rattling coach. Anna tried to give the friar an encouraging smile. The horses were getting restless; they were still young, eager for a run. He banged the small door closed making the horses throw their heads in discontentment. She walked to the agitated horses, slowly stroking each one. 

"Nothing is faster than Transylvanian horses."

He made a non-committal grunt, wearily eyeing the restless beasts, black hide gleaming in the morning light.

"On everything else, you are on your own."

He grinned at her, and it finally felt like a real smile. She watched him make his way to another, identical, coach and make his way through the village, barely controlling the wilful horses. She walked to her coach. Almost lost in thought, she grabbed the reins and guided the horses to a smaller pass obscured from view by the bulk of the castle. The hoof beats gave an almost musical rhythm as they trotted through the forest.

She had not yet time to contemplate the implications of her arrival to Rome. No Valerious had entered the Holy City since Valerious the Elder had vowed his oath in 1462. She had her qualms about entering the real world, the world where vampires or un-dead creatures did not walk the earth, where the nightly sleep was only disturbed by man-made terrors. A world where noble born Ladies did not wield a sword. Rome had a large court of gypsy nobility, and she would be expected to make an appearance.

Velkan had once been taken to a gypsy court in Prague to be recognised as the heir to the throne, but now it was only her. She was reluctant to bring news of her brother's death, to see her father's legacy be torn to pieces in bitter rivalries between the clans, to be questioned and robbed of her land. The quest had protected women heirs in the past, but unmarried and childless she had no chance of securing her position in the ruling line.

She had, at a point, considered not travelling, but the destruction of Dracula was no longer only her quest. If his vile progeny were to come alive, the threat of his evil could no longer be contained by her pledge. She had demanded Van Helsing's respect and trust in the beginning, now she could no longer deny the same rights from him. The monster needed to go to Rome, and she would take him there.

The hazy light of morning began to dawn on the forest, the difference between night and day was nonexistent, but through living her whole life in these woods she had began to recognise the dawn. A daybreak meant hope, it meant a few moments of sunlight. This morning they were not so lucky. A heavy all consuming mist still lingered between the trees, hindering all sight. She heard him long before she caught sight of them. Barely hanging between the ties of the horses, carriage long disintegrated. He made the jump to her carriage look so effortless, giving her a slight smile. It was only a small relief, for in a few moments Dracula's newest werewolf was upon them.

* * *

Anna could not help but to admire the forest, so many healthy strong trees, with greenery reaching up to the skies. She could feel Dracula's presence, but not nearly as strongly as in her own woods. She had lost all sense of direction when she jumped off the flaming carriage, and was now trying to find her way back to the road. She saw Van Helsing crouching against a tree, as if injured. He smiled at her, opened his mouth to welcome her back, but she would not let him, tearing his coat open. 

"You've been bitten."

There was a finality to her words; a cold chilling prospect of having to kill an innocent man again. Slowly she walked back, hand already searching for her gun. She should have felt Aleera in the woods, but Van Helsing's injury preoccupied her too much for caution. The blow came out of nowhere, and in an instant she was in the air. She fought, fought to her last breath, until she could not hold herself conscious anymore, the pressure of blood in her head peaked. The oblivion felt more welcome than she was willing to admit.

She felt the familiar coldness in her bones. She felt the cool floor beneath her palms and the wind in her hair. Her mind fought its way to consciousness.

"So we meet again, my beauty."

She was in a dressing room, lined with mirrors and lush, thick fabrics, dresses thrown carelessly on slight wooden chairs. She pushed herself up. Why was everything so cold? She felt weak, all the walls of her mind torn down during her sleep, giving him a free reign.

"He plucked you."

His voice was scathing, a jealous lover.

"How was it my Princess? How was it to be a whore?"

She felt Dracula in her head, in her body, mind seeking answers. She felt the brand of Van Helsing inside of her, burning since that fateful day. _You will not have this. Will not_. It was a losing battle, she knew, her mind and body already worn beyond tolerance, but somehow he did not see, could not take away her breathless moments in the dark. That feeling of triumph kept her sane as his lackeys dressed her, moulded her naked body in front of him, pushing her lungs and bones into submission. Dracula made her into a Lady he could seduce; he could take. Once more he forced Anna's body to become her enemy; took away her choice. Now part of her understood a woman's place in the world that resided outside her village; outside of her quest. The freedom; the choice; the pleasure were now gone. As the bones of the corset dug into her skin she swore; I will have you again, I will feel you again; there lies my strength; my will to keep Dracula's mind at bay.

He walked to her. Admiring the red silk, the finest of gold; this is how the Princess of gypsies should bee seen; as a queen, not a hunter.

"Now come my beauty. We have a ball to attend to."

* * *

Her lugs were burning, lack of oxygen made her legs unsteady, steps unfocused, but she kept running, the needle firmly clutched in her hand. She could hear the roars of the beasts and breaking of metal. _Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…._Let her not be late. 

The last few days had been a blur; the vivid colours of the ball changing fast back into the grey woods of her homeland. Van Helsing's rage had been like a physical presence that hung around them as Carl had raced to find access to Dracula's world. Even though she would never have admitted it; Anna bathed in his rage. The growing force of the wolf had calmed her nerves, had stilled her racing heart. And now it was her turn to race; to attempt to stop his rage from becoming eternal.

As she finally reached the room, a foul beast which had once been Van Helsing, was howling over a burn mark on the stone, where she assumed Dracula had once been.

Within an instant the beast's head turned to her. Its yellow eyes were tiny slits in its head. She backed away, slowly, so as not to alarm it further, until she could no more. A stone wall colder that ice pushed into her back. The beast moved ever closer, its snout pushing into her chest. Anna could see its nostrils flaring, smelling the blood on her_ …Thy kingdom come, thy will be done… _Her hand squeezed the needle; she needed to get the antidote into him before she would die. The beast did not attack, it growled at her, deep sound, purring from its chest. She acted, sinking the needle into the beast's neck. Its howl was ear shattering, but still it refused to attack. The beast whimpered and limped away from her, then fell onto its side breathing laboriously.

She could hear Carl's hurried steps echoing in the hall. He rushed in, bearing the silver stake, ready to strike. The sight of the beast on the ground made him stop short. He turned to look at her, still leaning against the stone, unable to move. Slowly the beast started to change. It was not violent as before. The brown hair withered and fell away, body, muscles, slowly taking shape, until they were both looking at an unconscious man. Finally her limbs regained their ability to move and she stumbled to his body, shaking his shoulders. An irrational fear gripped her chest; he seemed dead, like her brother. His limbs began to move, uncontrolled, not yet used to the form of his body. Groaning, he opened his eyes, only to find her worried gaze. For a moment he seemed bewildered, then reached up twining his hand into her hair, and pulled her down for a kiss. His mouth tasted musky; earthy, an animal taste. She could not pull herself away.

Carl's slightly alarmed cough pulled her out of the pure feeling of him and instinctively made her pull away. He looked at her first in confusion and then with growing apprehension. She rose swiftly and made a show of looking for his clothing in the rubble. Heavy steps began to echo from the hallway, tall shadows danced in the walls. Instinctively Anna pulled out her long sword; the hiss of the blade loud in the hall. Frankenstein limbed into the circle of firelight. His face was badly torn and dark fluid was seeping from his left arm; leaving slight puddles onto the stone floor.

"They are all dead flesh now."

Anna sheathed her sword and nodded once. She picked up Van Helsing coat that had fallen onto the floor and surprisingly remained unscattered during the battle. She threw it at the man without looking at him and began walking towards the passageway.

"We need to return to the entrance."

Angrily Van Helsing pulled the coat over his torn clothing and the three men moved to follow her. The walk to the icy mirror was a silent one.

* * *

She had felt the change immediately after their return. There were no more attacks or disappearing children. For a while the village quieted down, a calm before the storm. But life began to return into its familiar route and the village began to fill with new vigour. The villagers, who had lived generations under the threat of vampires, did not quite know how to act. Anna watched from the castle's window as they enthusiastically prepared the first open market in decades. Horses and cattle were let out to herd in the little grass that actually grew in the village. Five wedding ceremonies were performed in a week; faith was restored. 

Frankenstein had not felt comfortable enough to remain with them in the Valerious manor. He had insisting on departing the very same morning. Anna had instructed the servants to prepare some food for his journey, and Carl had given him some religious texts as well as maps of southern and eastern Russia to guide his journey. They had watched his departure silently in the misty morning hours. He had agreed to take one horse to carry his small baggage, but nothing else. Anna felt empty. All that had even haunted this land was now gone. There was nothing left to commemorate her family's efforts, nothing to make it real.

She had felt the villagers' pressuring gazes the few times she had ventured outside. They had no longer any need of her. She stood among them, reminding of the bad times that were now passed. Like all small communities, her village was fast to move on and forget the old heroes. She wandered in her empty castle, the overbearing gazes of her ancestors following her silent vigil from the safety of their portraits.

Van Helsing had become cold and withdrawn almost immediately after their return. His passion and morbid attitude towards his profession had disappeared. Anna wondered if it was normal, if he always turned sour after a kill. Maybe it was a safety mechanism. She was envious. Only if she could build a wall around her heart and could stop wailing into her pillow night after night, nightmarish visions of Velkan and her father haunting her dreams.

It was Carl who approached her on the matter of her idle wonderings. She was in the library looking at the mass of books it had accumulated over the centuries, books that she had never had time to read. For a moment Carl watched her from the distance of the doorway. Van Helsing would never be humbled enough to do this. Carl had observed him in these last few days, the fugitive glances he sent her way. There was also something else, a lurking fear. He would not approach her, preferring to send Carl instead. Something had irrevocably changed in the monster hunter.

"Umm…. Princess Anna…"

She turned with a very small book cupped in her hands. She smiled at his tumbling words, but now there was a new, painful quality to her once mischievous smiles.

"It is merely that… would you be interested in accompanying us… Meaning would, you be interested in travelling to Rome, and as we are going there anyway… or to another city that we might take you… not that you need taking just… for company."

He finished lamely.

"Yes. I would like that."

She slid the small volume back into its shelve.

"My village has very little use for me anymore."

* * *

It was the day of their leaving. The sky for once was clear, but snow seemed to be looming in the horizon. They would have to ride fast to make it to the pass before the storm. Van Helsing had been silent over their travel plans, sending wary glances her way when ever their paths crossed in the castle. 

Now she stood outside the main gates of her castle, well, not her castle anymore. The priests of the village were performing a blessing in the graveyard. There had been many dead and missing who had been denied a proper burial; bodies never found or the village under such terror that the dead were merely dumped to the ground without a goodbye. When the old priest stepped to Velkan's grave, soil still black from the shovels, her fingers instinctively rose to the sign of the cross. Goodbye, my dear, for we are not to meet again.

* * *

The first days of the ride were gruelling. Snow pelted down, just as Anna had feared. She had not ridden long distances in years and her legs were sore and tense. Most evenings when they stopped to rest she had no strength left to eat. For her relief she could see the same signs of exhaustion on Carl's face. Van Helsing drove the party forwards with a deadly pace, and only the lack of spare horses made him rest the nights. Even then he was restless, walking around the camp all nigh, taking most of the watches. 

The mornings were the worst. The coldness had settled into her sore muscles during the night, and getting up from her bedroll took a long time. Carl, bless his heart, had stocked his saddle bag with tea. Where he had managed to find the leaves she did not know. Maybe the priests of her village had considered a fellow clergy man worthy of such a gift. Anna enjoyed it none the less.

It was the seventh morning of their journey. Anna woke with the first light, still tired, to find that the ache in her thighs had changed into slicing pain. She forced her shaking legs to move, pushing herself off the ground. She limped to the mountain stream behind the trees that covered their camp. There was some ice and snow lingering on the banks but she could clearly see the spring coming to the mountains. She spread her thick coat on the bank and dug a large handkerchief from the pocket. Removal of her boots was painful, the fabric and leather had pressed angry welts to her skin.

With care she peeled her trousers off. The fabric had attached itself to her skin; the pain of the pulling made her eyes water. The heavy ride, combined with sweat and grime that had gathered to her skin during the days, had caused abrasions to form in her inner thighs. The continuous confinement of the irritated skin inside the fabric and constant chafing of her saddle had caused them to infect. Puss and blood was oozing from the small cuts lining her legs. She soaked the handkerchief in the stream and started cleaning the wounds. She bit her teeth together to stop herself from gasping, tears were now freely leaking from her eyes.

"Anna…. We are leaving."

Van Helsing's voice called for her from the nearby trees, she heard his steps approach. Swiftly she pulled her coat to cover herself.

"We must go now."

"I have a small cut in my leg; I shall be with you in a moment."

Her voice was calmer than she felt. He kneeled next to her.

"Anything bad?"

"Nothing. I said I'll be with…"

She could not finish, the sentence turning into a painful hiss. His hand had come to squeeze her knee, fingers pushing straight into one of the sores through her coat; violently she swatted his hand away. His eyes immediately gained a concerned look, searching her face. She refused to look at him.

He knew he had behaved badly. But every time he even glanced at her the overwhelming desire seized his body. He could still feel the smell of her in his nostrils. The wolf had not disappeared from within him with the antidote. The primal part of his brain that had recognised her, even trough all that rage, was still present, still knew her. It felt like he had wanted her forever, always carrying the want inside his chest, but never before realising who it was for.

"Please… I can help."

Maybe it was the tone of his voice that gave her reassurance, as she moved the leather and fur of her coat to reveal the angry welt in the side of her knee. He pulled his gloves off and pushed the angry red skin around the sore. She said nothing, but he heard her intake of breath. How she could have ridden with these he did not know.

He got up and went to his horse. Carl was standing beside his horse looking confused.

"We will be a while."

Carl only nodded as he disappeared into the forest with a small glass bottle. She had not moved from the riverside. Once again he kneeled next to her, opening the bottle. A scent of herbs and alcohol filled the air and made Anna screw her face.

"You better let me do this. This will hurt."

She looked scandalised pulling the coat tighter around her legs.

"If you think you are getting a free show here…"

Her voice was icy, eyes flashing. He lowered the bottle carefully to the ground and took off his coat, laying it on top of her legs. She looked at the makeshift cover, and slowly nodded. He poured the ointment on his hand and pushed in between the fabrics, knuckles brushing her heated skin.

"Relax…"

The ointment burned beyond belief and after a while she gave up and grabbed his other hand, bruising it in her grip. She made no sound throughout and still refused to meet his eyes. He could feel her muscles quaking under his fingers. In the end she was laying in the snow, her legs spread as wide as the coverage of his coat allowed. She had covered her face with her hands, shallow breaths escaping through her clenched fingers.

He knew what the ointment felt on raw skin. It was very effective on open wounds and numbed the skin for hours, but applying it was torture. He washed his hands in the cold river and filled his water container.

She had accepted his offer for his loose trousers. That day their pace was slow. Anna was forced to ride side saddle, which she had never done before. Only few words were spoken within the party, but it was a welcomed silence. Carl felt that a truce had been reached on the riverside. He watched from a small distance as they rode side by side.

After few days they started to meet small farms and villages. The landscape was forming into a more open ground. Spring had reached the lower altitudes and many farmers were out in the fields, turning up the soil, planting seeds. Buying food became easier, many of the small farms were eager to trade in coins, even if some were wary of the strange travellers. If beds were offered for the night they were often refused. Anna was not a common sight in these tiny homesteads. A woman dressed like a man, in the company of men clearly not her relations. Van Helsing had sensed her discomfort in the first farm and did not push the matter. And secretly he also enjoyed the closeness of her sleeping form in the nights. She was only an arm's reach away and it calmed the wolf. In a house such closeness would be impossible.

The full story of the Valerious family also unravelled over the camp fire. Anna's account of events were very different from the cold monotones of the Vatican archive. The isolation of her family explained her discomfort. She was in no way trained or schooled in the behaviour suitable for high born ladies. Her life had been violent since birth and she had scolded herself in ways Van Helsing could never fathom. A life lived only in the faith of destruction and continuity of their line.

Carl was happy that she had agreed to join them. Their journey to Transylvania had been a silent and swift one. Her presence brought chatter and action. She often demanded to stop to admire the view, or to eat properly. Sometimes Carl wondered about their destination, about what would happen on arrival. All the servants of the order knew the customs; family was frowned upon. Women, the weaker sex, were considered distractions as comrades, if not as bed warmers. Carl had often wondered if the Order would have sent them if Velkan had not been alive.

* * *

A first larger village came into view behind a dense forest. The sun was hanging low in the sky bathing the village in orange light. Most of the villagers were gathered in the middle of a circle of buildings, a town centre of sorts, mingling beside tables squeaking with the weight of food. A set of barn doors were nailed together, creating a make-shift dance floor into the square. A small band was warming up next to it. 

Anna smiled; he could feel it, a radiant smile that lit the evening. She spurred her tired horse on towards the village. A herd of young men were the first to notice their arrival, or notice Anna's arrival. Her dark hair shone in the waning sunlight. The group gathered eagerly around her horse, all weighting their words to this stranger.

"What has brought such a Lady into our humble village?"

He was a young man, no more than twenty, with light hair and fine features. He had pushed himself through the group, standing beside her.

"A place to rest our weary horses, and our weary selves as well."

Anna smiled.

"And possibly to take part in the dance."

Now she was truly smiling, eyes fixed on the small company by the dance floor. Van Helsing guided his horse next to Anna, their legs touching. He felt the questioning stares from the group of men. Noble Ladies rarely travelled without a family member, a protector, who spoke and acted on her behalf.

Every village, no matter how small, held its power struggle, Van Helsing was aware of this. To obtain a wife, new blood, from outside the community always meant rise in power through one's offspring, thus visitors were always welcomed in hopes of a union. In a village this remote and isolated, young men were forced to seek a spouse from outside their community in avoidance of inbreeding. Young Ladies were always welcome, but those who accompanied them posed a bar to the union. He could see the eyes of the men gauging him; was he a brother; a knight; a lenient husband who allowed his wife to speak before him.

"Give them road!"

A giant of a man walked towards the little group as fast as his massive girth allowed. He was dressed in a black cassock. He had obviously spotted Carl from the distance. Clergy men felt kinship towards each other, a common ground in any country. Van Helsing motioned Carl to ride up front; the priest was more likely to advice Carl on a respectable tavern, where one could stay with a noble woman. Clumsily Carl dismounted his horse and hurried to greet the man.

"We are travelling to Rome, to the Holy City. Lady Anna has left her family behind in Transylvania…"

Carl had barely begun his explanation of their strange journey and company when the massive priest whacked him on the shoulder.

"Newlyweds, splendid!"

The man boomed, and began leading Carl towards the circle of buildings. Anna met his eyes. Slowly she nodded, accepting the lie and letting her horse follow in Carl's wake. The massive priest led them to an ominous looking little pub called the 'Mad Ferret'. Van Helsing wondered if the pub might have possibly been named after the village's resident clergy. The pub had a few rooms sectioned off from the living quarters as a makeshift inn; the village clearly got only few passers through in a year. Anna did not seem concerned over the sleeping arrangements, her eyes were more drawn to the window, and the dance floor on the square. He suspected that sleep was the last thing on her mind.

The square was alive with music and spinning bodies. Through the whirlwind of people they could see Carl standing in a corner of a large table looking lost and apprehensive. The source of his apprehension became apparent when a large matron approached him clearly with a dance in mind. Rescue was in order as they made their way around the dance floor. Quite a few gazes caught Anna's back, but Van Helsing's presence made most of the calls for a dance die on the eager suitors' lips. Carl was most grateful for the opportunity to hide behind their combined bulk. The lead fiddler began a new tune and the rest of the company followed suit, all in slightly different pace. The dancers formed four groups in which they divided themselves into two columns, men and women facing each other. Anna was almost twitching.

"Does the great Van Helsing dance?"

She enquired bowing slightly towards him, challenge in her voice. He shrugged, not quite meeting her eyes.

"No. I tend not to."

"Now, that is no manner to answer a Lady's call for a dance."

The man with light hair seemed to have come from nowhere, now bowing before Anna.

"If I might have the honour of this dance…"

Merrily Anna took the offered hand and let the young man lead her into one of the groups. She was an excellent dancer, Van Helsing noted almost immediately. She had an acute sense of rhythm and grace, moving with the steps with precision. Their fast gallop between the columns of dancers made her shriek with joy. The villagers, on an off the dance floor, were clapping with obvious approval with the music.

He had felt the tightening in his gut at the first sight of the young man; _competition_, the wolf had whispered; _hindrance_, his mind had professed. Now the sway of her body, perfectly matching his in the heat of the music, made his fists clench. She was not his wife, even if the assumption of the priest had pushed them into this charade of pretend, and no matter how greatly he wished, he could not walk into the floor and demand her. He considered himself an educated man, but his knowledge in peasant harvest dances was greatly lacking, Anna on the other hand seemed to be a master.

Periodically she would return to his side, carrying glasses of thick beer or corn, only to return into the mêlée. The early evening turned into night as dark clouds began to veil the new stars. The rain began suddenly and with such force that some of the younger ladies shrieked in surprise. The mass of villagers began pushing into a large barn just outside the clearing. The huge wooden building obviously served as the village's main food storage, the smell of old cabbage had seeped into the walls and floor.

Anna had taken a seat atop a large barrel, brushing her fingers through her wet hair. Even if the whole company had moved into the old barn swiftly, most of them had been caught in the worst of the rain. The rain had not beaten the enthusiasm out of them, but most were throwing wet overcoats onto the floor and starting up a new tune, now a slower, mournful tone, matching the rain's slow symphony against the roof. Slowly he walked to stand beside her barrel, offering a relatively clean handkerchief, which was, after a moments hesitation, accepted gladly.

"What is this one called?"

"The Last Waltz."

"To this, I can dance."

She eyed the offered hand wearily, but accepted it none the less. The glow from the lit torches was enough to give the barn low light, surrounding the few remaining dancers in a warm cocoon. He was not much of a dancer, but he pulled her gently against his chest, slowly swaying with the music, taking her back to those few fateful moments in the darkness of the chapel. The smell of garlic and his sweat overrode the powerful smell of hay and food in the circle of his arms. Anna refused to examine the tendrils of want curling in her stomach, not yet. _Not yet_.

* * *

It was an early morning when the small harbour of Privlaka finally came into view behind the hills. They had been riding all night. Carl had a few days ago realised that they were going to miss the ship back, which would mean a month wait or a ride through the peninsula. They had ridden almost continuously. They had all learned to nap on their horses, tying the reigns to the watcher's saddle. 

They were still quite high up, but the harbour, with their ship, was clearly visible in the morning light. Van Helsing shadowed his eyes.

"The sails seem to be in shreds."

They rode down the hill to the right, directing their path towards the town, only for Anna to stop her horse on a jut stretching from the mountain side. They were still high up, the huge mass of the sea spread in front of them, a massive drop into the water only a few meters away. The blue, glittering surface reflected the rising sun and the slight wind blowing in the hills pillowed her hair. Van Helsing rode next to her. She tuned to him and smiled. Yes, it is beautiful, he thought.

They found a small path next to the forest and began descending the slope. They did not have to ride far, when an inn was revealed in another jut formed in the slope. A young woman was spreading laundry in the back garden, white sheets pillowing in the wind. As if she had felt their gazes, she looked up and walked up to the fence.

"When is the ship to Ancona leaving?"

The woman looked thoughtful for a moment.

"It was supposed to leave yesterday, but they got caught in a storm on the last crossing. I presume they are leaving in a day's time."

She turned back to her laundry, almost as they were leaving she shouted:

"If you are looking for affordable housing, the entrance to our inn is on the other side, facing the harbour."

The front of the house was built more grandiose, obviously to lure travellers coming from the hubbub of the harbour. The innkeeper was already on the porch as they rode around the corner, a middle aged man with a wide, friendly face. He showed their horses to the modest stables, hidden in the other corner of the house. Van Helsing saw the fascinated gaze of the innkeeper following Anna as she unloaded and stripped her horse with sure hands.

The entrance hall was not very large; a sitting area with large leather chairs dominated most of the space. Huge doorway next to the stairs opened into the dining hall. The innkeeper stepped behind the large wooden counter. Most of the room keys were still in the hooks behind him; obviously not a busy season.

"We shall have three rooms."

Anna's clear voice sounded behind Van Helsing before the innkeeper had even begun to speak. He looked at her disapprovingly, but turned to the keys none the less. Van Helsing turned to look at her. He sometimes forgot that she was royalty, her heritage was edged into the lines of her body and to the contours of her voice, so slightly as to be sometimes overlooked, but she knew what it was to command. In these parts, when coming from a woman, such behaviour was not usually taken well. Van Helsing could see the muscles tensing in the innkeeper's neck; finally he turned and laid the keys on the counter, pointedly turned to Van Helsing and spoke.

"Would your wife like a bath…?"

"No. I would not like a bath. When you address me, speak to my face."

Her voice was steel. She walked to the counter, picked up one of the keys, and disappeared up the stairs with her saddle bags thrown over her shoulder. The innkeeper turned back to Van Helsing with a wry smile on his lips.

"You have quite a handful there."

"She is not my wife, and I would advise you to address her with respect in the future."

He picked up his key and followed her up the stairs. Carl fidgeted for a while and then, timidly, picked up his keys. He placed few gold coins onto the counter to pay for the nigh, nodding to the innkeeper.

"Thank you."

As he walked up the stairs he saw the young woman from the garden standing in the dining room doorway, looking covetously after her newest quests.

* * *

To sleep in a real bed was luxury she had not even dared to dream of. The insistent knocking on the door finally managed to drag her out of the protection of the huge pillows. She slid the door open a tiny fraction, just barely able to see Carl's smiling face. 

"The dinner is being served now, and were we thinking of eating?"

She nodded. Food would be good. Still groggy from the long sleep she pulled her clothing on and ambled downstairs. The dining hall was nearly empty. A huge wooden table took most of the space, smaller tables were scattered sparsely around the edges of the room. Carl and Van Helsing were occupying one in the far north corner. He looked so out of place, she could not help but smile. He had taken his hat off, but still wore his long coat even inside. There were already bread and butter on the table.

The fatigue of the last few days had not completely disappeared during the day, his muscles felt worn down, and secretly he rejoiced in the stillness of the coming crossing, the silent containment of a ship. He had felt her when she entered the foyer, would have felt her without Carl's announcement of her presence. She looked lovely, smelled better. She was smiling, sleep still clinging to her eyes. The wolf had been waking for a week now, pulling his eyes to her tired body during the long hours of their ride, when he was too tired to contain the beast within the walls of his mind. It was not the church that haunted him, even if the moments in the dark kept him company at nights, but Dracula's castle. He had had strength enough to fight Dracula, to preserve his goal, but the fight had exhausted him. He had killed, brutally, before, but not as an animal driven by instincts. It was destruction, annihilation of everything he knew, the blissful ignorance of his missing life, of his servitude to the Order. The wolf, the primal lust that had lead him into that church, had known her. _Mine_. A possessive thought of an animal that mates for life.

The innkeeper's perky little wife started carrying food to the table; game, boiled vegetables, mushrooms and two pitchers of wine. Their meagre rations had barely covered the ride from Transylvania, and they had not been able to carry heavy loads of food in fear of tiring the horses. He could not make himself eat, only to watch her, fingers moving over the carcass of the bird, nimbly removing flesh from bone. She ate with her hands, ignoring the cutlery, pointedly laid beside her plate. She had not bathed, the sweat of the journey still lingered on her skin, calling the wolf.

The innkeeper's wife walked towards their table again. If he had been paying attention he would have seen the exaggerated sway of her hips and the laces undone in her cleavage. She laid a plate of warm honey crumpets on the table, Anna instantly purred in her throat at the sight of the sweets. She leaned over the table to snatch one. The stretch of her back made the wolf growl, made even him growl. He could imagine the palms of his hands pressing into her back, warm through the cotton shirt, pushing her onto the table. He violently rose from the table, tearing through the hall, blood pounding in his ears, heart beating against his ribcage.

Anna and Carl looked at his swiftly retreating back. Anna still had a half honey crumpet in her mouth.

"I was not going to eat them all."

Carl shrugged and helped himself to more mushrooms.

* * *

She cannot stay. _Cannot_. How could he not overcome this? The day had turned into an evening, a light of the crescent moon guiding late ships into the harbour. He had come to the decision days ago, but had refused to face the reality of parting from her. The savage longing of the wolf over the dinner table had made him realise that there was no going back, the gnawing desire had festered in his mind too long for absolution. 

Now he was standing outside her door, desperately wishing for her not to answer. But fate, it seems, was never accommodating to his wishes. She invited him in with a wave of her hand. She had dragged the chair from the corner of the room to the open widow, letting the first spring breeze into the room. She had propped up her legs on the window frame, a wine glass in her hand as she turned to look at him, body skewing into an awkward angle. He was agitated, pacing, refusing to meet her eyes.

"You must travel to Rome by yourself."

His voice was hard. Anna rose from her chair to fully face him.

"Why this sudden change in plan?"

Her voice was questioning, suspicious of his cold demeanour. Was it possible that he had received new orders, was this something to do with his sudden exit from the dining hall? She was fully aware that Van Helsing's orders had not included her passage to Rome.

"All you are required to know is; you cannot accompany us."

"Required…."

The clear astonishment was now waging with anger, making her voice shake. He made a move to leave, her hand shot out to stop him.

"Do not touch me."

He hissed between clenched teeth before her hand even made contact, pulling himself to the other side of the room, making no effort in concealing his desire to be as far from her as possible in the crammed space of the room. Anna made no move towards him, now there was rage burning in her eyes.

"If we fall apart now; I need to hear you say it. I deserve to."

She turned to face the window, eyes once more gaining the painful quality she had nearly lost during their journey.

"Was it all just a lie?"

"No."

A mere whisper.

"Then tell me."

She was not looking at him, voice as quiet as his own. He felt the pull, clawing itself out of his chest, clambering to her, willing her not to cry, not for him.

"When I…"

His own voice raspy in his ears, lifeless, hesitant.

"…changed. I knew nothing, nothing besides my fierce determination to kill. I was not strong enough to fight it; he was merely the first one to cross my path."

"Why did you not kill me?"

Anna seemed to regret the words as she voiced them.

"Because at that moment; you were mine."

He willed her to listen, to understand. Maybe he had pushed her away once too many, isolating himself, but the wolf had seen, had known.

"That part of the wolf stayed with me, even with the antidote coursing in my veins, making me human again -- I cannot fight this any longer."

"Then do not."

There was fire in her eyes, but not that of rage.

"I wanted this, even before the church. When you stood in that clearing and challenged me."

She began walking to him, now for the first time really looking at him, into him.

"The desire was not yours alone. The betrayal was not yours alone."

She was looking at him with tiredness in her eyes he had not seen since their leaving. She was offering to tame the beast in him, and maybe hers as well. He had seen the silent rage in her eyes licking the surface, courting her.

"Will you now finish it?"

There was urgency in the kiss, a tearing violence neither was willing to contain anymore.

There was still the same pull, as strong as it had been in Castle Dracula, asking her to stay, to _give in_. She did, nails sinking into his scull, devouring, fierce, determined, answering. He sank to his knees pushing her ass onto the hard wooden edge of the bed. It was violent and hard; and she welcomed it; the harsh hands tearing her corset free, leather snagging, the pads of his fingers gentling her stomach and breasts, pushing her down.

She pushed herself up as his hands travelled her torso, pulling his thick jumper off. Her hands found them by accident, long scars lining his upper back in perfect geometry. He stilled, hands frozen against her sides, as she explored the pumps and ridges of the long healed flesh. He trembled.

"Is it painful?"

"No… not pain."

His voice was rough, choked, spoken against her skin, an admission divulged in flesh if not in voice.

She bit into his shoulder in understanding. He growled. Part of her understood the dark coiling need of the wolf. He pushed her down again, deft fingers curling under her trousers. She let her back curve; her hips rise with the pull of his fingers. This she remembered: silent, deft, coarse hands now pushing her legs apart; pushing her apart. There was an ease to his movements now, lavishness, you are mine he seemed to say.

His head was buried between her legs before she had time to react. She snapped her knees tightly around his head; hands pulling his hair.

"Too much."

She was breathless; gasping like a fish on dry land. He let his lips graze the side of her knee, slowly gentling his hands around her thighs. Both of his thumbs pushed her, slow circles, over and over; dark eyes piercing into hers. It was like a huge breath: a wave building beneath her breast bone, her stomach, under his fingers. His motions were so calm, so unrelenting; they made her breathless. Her back began to curl without any warning. He was still watching: seeing her breaking. She pushed her palms against her face breathing harshly into her own flesh.

"Don't hide"

She shook her head in the cover of her hands.

"_Ohgodohgod_."

The prayer escaped her lips in a frantic whoosh. His thumbs pushed back again, smaller and smaller circles. His mouth was back; his lips and tongue and teeth and fingers making her speak a new language of gasps and moans, escaping her lips like thieves in the night. Her heels pushed into his back, into his scars; her body rising of the bed. She wailed into her palms, breaking in private darkness.

His lips ghosted over her quivering stomach, easing her down, hands caressing her legs still slung over his shoulders. He shushed into her flesh meaningless words which she seemed to understand anyhow. He crawled to lie next to her slowly coaxing her hands away from her face.

Anna shook her head, still keeping her eyes tightly shut. She buried her head in his chest; still hiding. His hand found its way into her hair, massaging her scalp.

"Hey,"

His voice was soft, lips right next to her ear.

"You alright?"

Anna could only shake; her hands pushed into his armpits her face rubbing against his skin. Silently he murmured in her ear, the fingers of his other hand pushing their way back between her legs, slowly relieving the ache. She bit one of his nipples in slow confirmation.

Slowly he rolled them over, half sitting against the headboard, letting Anna rest on his chest. She felt like she was waking from a very long sleep. Her body was humming, a slight current running just beneath the surface of her skin. Her eyes were completely dark, pupils dilated to the brink when she looked at him. She braced her hands on his shoulders and lifted herself onto his stomach; kissing him from above. His hands stroked her back; slowly down from the mass of hair in the back of her scull to the swell of her ass and back again. She smiled.

"Now."

He curled his legs and braced his heels against the mattress, supporting her body as she slowly took him. It was so easy, Anna wondered, as if she had been born to do this. He grunted and bit the side of her shoulder.

He looked at her; her eyes were so open now; sure and endless. He could not help but grin and she smiled back; understanding his joy. Her movements were turning deeper; knees now tightly squeezed against his sides; making him throw his head back. She hummed and bit his chin; squeezing him tightly. His whole body was trembling, coiled tension of weeks pouring out. She moved with him, again, his body taking a new shape around her like a massive seismic shift. She is moulding me, he thought through the haze.

"Do not move yet."

She wanted to keep him, right here, tired, content, in her. He raised his head to look, tired eyes beneath the sweat drenched hair. She pushed some of it from his face and let her forehead fall against his. Their lips touched, but it was not a kiss; more of a sharing of breath. Her eyes were dark, but clear. He felt light, weightless.

Anna let her fingers comb through his hair as if petting. She smiled; her voice warm.

"You tame me so well."

* * *

She walked to the edge, bare feet freezing in the still damp grass. Sun was barely up, making mist dance on the still waters. She pulled the thin shirt tighter around herself, slightly shivering. She could feel him come up behind her, before his hands circled her body, pulling them together. 

"It is beautiful."

"Yes, it is."

His nose was buried in her hair, voice muffled. Anna thought that maybe he was not referring to the sea at all. His coat smelled of sweat and garlic and of her.

"Come to Rome with me."

Voice still muffled, but near her ear. She smiled. _Why not? _And nodded.

THE END

(for now)


End file.
